After the whole metal detector escapade to dig up any left over Madonnas, wet suit man decided to go on an archaeological dig in his front yard. I swear to you, one morning I left for work and he was out there in JUST HIS SKIVVIES. Now, lets take a second for this. Old man chicken legs. Wrinkly. Pasty as can be. Old and ragged skivvies that resembled daisy dukes. You try and get that picture out of your mind. Continuing on…so he’s out there avec skivvies, BENDING ALL THE WAY OVER, with tiny hand brushes whisking away the dirt from around the roots of where the tree once stood.

I figured we were in for a treat at this point. He was going to try and hack out these roots and I would get the pleasure of watching his chicken legs do all this physical labor. Yummy. But alas, when I returned home that night there were piles of ground up stump around the dig site.

A week went by and the wood chip piles started to disappear and topsoil was now covering the hole. WAS HE GOING TO PLANT GRASS?!? I waited with anticipation every morning as I drove to work. And then, about a week ago I saw tiny little sprouts of grass. HALLELUJAH. I was convinced that after 3 years of living in this neighborhood we finally had closed the book on wet suit man.

…until this morning. I left to run some errands and there he was, in the same skivvies (likely unwashed) sealing the driveway…WITH HOT TAR. Listen Lady, I don’t have a “middle leg”, but I can imagine that HOT TAR on FLESH would not be a pleasant experience. Please, correct me if I’ve wrong though.

When I returned from my errands I made the slow turn past wet suits house and noticed that he left 1/3 of the driveway unsealed…WTF MATE, WILL IT NEVER END WITH THIS MAN!